Pain ala House
by 1985laurie
Summary: House!sick fic...strong House Wilson friendship. Short fic...enjoy! Chapter 7 up! The Final Chapter! Complete!
1. Chapter 1

**Set when Wilson was living with House; but no spoilers for any season…**

**I'm trying to polish up my writing skills so that I can start a big project – what better way than to use House as my subject – you know what that means people…House!hurt…**

**This shouldn't last more than a couple of chapters – let me know what you think…**

"Have either of you seen House?" Cameron sighed as she carried yet another set of negative test results into the conference room.

"Last time I saw him, he was being hunted down by Cuddy and she looked pissed – he's probably sulking somewhere right now." Foreman said unsympathetically; House had dropped them in it earlier by forging consent from a patient who didn't want any more tests and Cuddy was fuming.

"Who wants to tell him that the tests were all negative?" she offered; no doubt the boys would fight over who got the chance to tell House that he was wrong…

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House leaned heavily over his cane, waiting patiently for Cuddy to stop yelling at him; she had literally dragged him into her office, like a headmistress pulling in the naughty school boy for a lecture, it had caused a lot of stifled giggles from the nursing staff at the time.

"What part of 'no more tests' did you not understand, House? The patient said 'no more tests', his family said 'no more tests', your team said 'no more tests' – did they not make it clear enough for you that you should have done _no more tests_?" Cuddy asked angrily as she paced the room, House was getting dizzy just watching her.

"They said no to _treatment_, not to tests – at least that's what they told me!" He argued back weakly, it wasn't his best defence he had to admit; even Cuddy held her hands out, waiting for more of a fight, but none came.

"That was it?" She asked, surprised that there was no long-winded explanation, no screaming that he was right, no stand off; maybe he really was as ill as he looked, "excellent! Get out, go home, sleep and come back in a week."

"You're suspending me?" House whined disbelievingly, "the test results haven't even come back yet – at least wait for my team to come running to you with the negative results!"

"I'm not suspending you…you look awful – and you can't even participate in a good argument with me…come back when you're not ill." Cuddy smirked as she saw the shocked look on his face; he looked deathly pale, a little feverish and clearly hadn't slept properly in a few days, a break would be good for him…and her!

"You're forcing me to go home…because you want to argue with me?" he said in a disbelieving tone.

"Yeah – so go home and come back when you can stand up for yourself…literally." She added, noting his abnormally rigid posture over his cane, "what's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Does your leg hurt?" She asked cautiously as she watched him curl further over his cane the longer he was standing in front of her.

"My leg always hurts." He mumbled as he made to leave; he wasn't willing to stand there while she analysed his every move. Besides, his vicodin was calling from his office and he didn't know how much longer he could stand there without crying out in pain – how embarrassing would that be?

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"Lab results are back." Cameron said forcefully as she charged in House's office with Foreman and Chase in tow; House had simply ignored them on his return from Cuddy's office and gone straight to his sanctuary to pack for his week long holiday.

"Great." He said enthusiastically as he continued packing his bag, "now, if you don't mind, I'm a little busy here-"

"You were wrong." She continued, adding slightly too much eagerness in delivering the statement; House stopped packing and looked up at his ducklings with interest.

"I wonder how you decided who was going to deliver that piece of shocking news…rock, paper, scissors?" He smirked as all three looked sheepishly at each other.

"Where are you going?" Cameron asked, noticing that he had packed more than usual in his bag.

"I've quit-"

"Why?" she gasped; fearing that maybe he'd actually been fired this time.

"Cuddy was wearing a roll neck sweater…a _roll neck sweater_! I refuse to work under these conditions." House said sincerely; Chase snorted in suppressed laughter and Foreman rolled his eyes in unsuppressed exasperation before they both decided to leave House and Cameron to it and return to the conference room where home time was calling.

"Oh relax" he sighed as he caught Cameron's wounded look, "I'll be back in a week."

"You're sick." Cameron stated as she realised that her boss did look worse than he had this morning, it must have had something to do with the whiter than white shade his face had taken during the course of the day.

"There's no need for name calling." House pretended to take offence what she said as he grabbed his bag and swung it onto his shoulder; his stomach letting him know immediately that it was angry with this particular action.

"This morning, when you came in, you could hardly walk; now you look as if you can hardly stand." She said, worrying over how fragile he looked in front of her; he'd let his guard down and was holding onto the desk for support as another sharp pain took his breath away, "are you okay, how are you getting home? You didn't bring your bike this morning-"

"What are you – my stalker?" he scowled as he made a point of standing upright, grabbing his cane and sauntering off to grab a lift with Wilson; at least Wilson wouldn't ask any questions about giving him a lift home...

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"Okay." Wilson said as soon as House stumbled into his office; he didn't even look up from his paper work to check that it was House, "give me 5 minutes, then we can go."

"Impressive…either you're psychic or Cuddy called ahead." House guessed as he carefully lowered himself onto Wilson's couch.

"She was worried…you look awful." Wilson conceded as he watched his friend try and get comfortable, "what's up?"

"Something I ate…" House muttered as he fumbled with his vicodin bottle, his slightly shaking hands didn't seem to be able to open it; Wilson walked over and took it from him, opened it, then sat on the edge of his desk to observe, arms crossed over his chest.

"Not something I cooked; I didn't get sick!" Wilson said defensively, throwing up his hands as he watched House down two of the pills.

"I didn't say it was."

"But you were thinking it - just getting my defence in early."

"Hmmph." House snorted as he tucked his arms over his knees and curled over them; this grabbed Wilson's full attention immediately.

"Is it _that_ bad?" He asked disbelievingly; House did look pale, maybe if he'd actually eaten something today, Wilson would be a little more inclined to believe that it _was_ food poisoning and not something more serious.

"On and off." House gasped as he gingerly leant back and stretched his legs out in front of him, catching Wilson's concerned stare in the process; he rolled his eyes in mock annoyance and rubbed his hand over his stomach for a couple of minutes, seemingly lost in thought.

Wilson went back to his paper work, whatever was bothering House didn't seem to have him worried too much; it probably was just something he had eaten the previous day, he vaguely remembered House moaning about his stomach after lunch yesterday.

"Let's go already!" House whined after a short while, the pain subsiding as the pills worked their magic.

"Okay, okay!" Wilson sighed as he dumped the last lot of files into the bottom drawer of his desk – out of sight, out of mind after all! He waited for House to slowly and carefully stand before he ushered him out of the door; it was going to be a long walk to the car at this rate…

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The walk to the car turned out to be quiet and uneventful; the two vicodin seemed to have taken some of the edge off the pain and House seemed more comfortable. They made it to the car without even a snide comment on the nurses who had giggled their goodnights to Wilson; it was then that Wilson began his 'mini interrogation part deux'.

"No bike today huh?" He started casually.

House turned his head lazily and stared at Wilson, "No…because you brought me in this morning; so why don't you come right out and ask me the real questions instead of this idle chit chat crap." Wilson smirked at this response from House.

"Did you ask for a lift because you couldn't ride in?"

"Yes" came the annoyed response from the passenger seat.

"Were you in _this much_ pain this morning?"

House made no attempt to answer, so Wilson sighed and decided to continue the journey in silence; it was as they were waiting at a stop light that he happened to glance over and see how much pain House was fighting to hide, his face held in a permanent grimace as he pretended to look out of the window.

"If it was food poisoning, you'd be throwing up…" Wilson stated casually, "do you feel nauseous?"

"Your driving makes me feel nauseous…" House grumbled in reply as he shifted in the seat, "no, I don't feel nauseous..." he lied, hoping this would shut Wilson up.

"Do you want to stop by the shops and get something to eat?" Wilson asked hopefully; House made a derogative noise beside him which Wilson interpreted as a 'no thank you'.

They pulled up outside the apartment and Wilson made a point of fiddling around with things in the trunk until he heard House slam the car door and presumably make his way over to the front door; the last thing House wanted was an audience as he painfully got out of the car and the last thing Wilson wanted to do was to watch him struggle when he wasn't allowed to help.

House wouldn't admit it freely, not even to Wilson, but he was in absolute agony; what had started as a twinge in his gut the previous day had turned into a twisted, sharp pain which left him doubled over and breathless when it struck. He had opted to try to ignore it for as long as possible, maybe it would go away, maybe it was acid reflux, maybe it really was food poisoning; he let out a groan as he leant against the doorframe, waiting for Wilson to use his key to unlock the door…food poisoning didn't do this, not in a million years.

Wilson watched him shuffle uncomfortably down the hall, obviously heading off to bed; there was something about the gait which was painful to watch, so Wilson retired to the kitchen – some people who didn't have gut problems actually wanted food and weren't planning on going to bed at 6pm!

He was rummaging around, searching for the saucepan he was sure he'd washed up the previous night, when he thought he heard his name being called; he paused in his clattering and listened again, "For God's sake, Wilson!" he heard House choke out in between groans.

Wilson didn't waste any time in jogging through to the hallway where he found House doubled up on his knees just inside the bathroom door, his arm wrapped tightly around his stomach, forehead pressed against the floor and eyes squeezed tightly shut; he dropped down to his knees to join him and tried to make House aware of his presence by putting his hand on his shaking shoulder.

"What happened?" He asked, unable to stop his voice from catching in his throat as he worried about his friend; the nagging voice in the back of his mind telling him that House was a stubborn idiot for not letting him help earlier.

House didn't reply; Wilson couldn't tell if he hadn't heard him or if he was in too much pain to respond, this wasn't good.

"House, what happened?" He asked a little louder; House attempted to look up at him and Wilson became alarmed at how flushed he was.

"Need hospital" House gasped, "it's not food poisoning…"


	2. Chapter 2

"House, listen to me – lay on your back!" Wilson said urgently as he tried to pull House out of his crouched position; House put up little resistance until it came to uncurling from his doubled over position, he yelled out in pain, causing Wilson to flinch and let go of his friend's shoulder, leaving him laying on his side with his arm firmly clasped around his waist.

He was torn between trying to calm House down by staying with him, or leaving him to find the phone to call an ambulance; House's breathing was severely laboured and the doctor in Wilson was screaming 'respiratory distress – stay with him!' but the same doctor was also shouting 'abdominal haemorrhaging – call the ambulance!'

House also had the doctors gibbering away in his head; they weren't nearly as coherent as Wilson's inner voice, but they were trying their hardest to get through to him past the pain – 'What the hell is wrong with me? Think you idiot – how did you end up collapsing on your bathroom floor! Abdominal pain – shit, ow! Severe abdominal pain – spleen? No, Liver…hope not. Wait – fuck, ow…c'mon House think! Fever…yeah, rigid abdominal muscles…shit. Distension? Don't know…'

He became aware of Wilson trying to get him to lie down, he realised what he was trying to achieve; 'lie on back, bend knees with feet on floor – voilà, relaxed abdominal muscles and less pain!' It sounded so easy, yet his brain was unable to successfully convince his body that it would work; he felt dizzy and he knew it was because he was hyperventilating – the only problem was, he couldn't breathe through the excruciating pain. 'Gonna pass out, shit – breath in through your nose, out through your mouth – call yourself a doctor, you couldn't diagnose yourself - ow! Shit, calm down you idiot – you're gonna pass out – then who's gonna diagnose you – EMT's? As if!'

"Okay" House choked out eventually, after laying on his side for a few seconds the pain had started to subside to some extent and he wanted to get on his back before it flared up again.

Wilson seized the opportunity and carefully rolled House over, being sure to lift his legs up at the knees to alleviate the tension on his abdomen; he felt House's whole body shaking as he panted heavily, sweat dripping from his forehead.

"Deep breaths" Wilson instructed anxiously; he had to call the ambulance right now but he couldn't just leave House to pass out on his bathroom floor. "House, 3 deep breaths, come on!"

House complied, his head dizzy and his ears ringing; he struggled to focus as he watched Wilson run back into the front room, presumably to find his phone. He heard parts of the conversation, some snatched words as Wilson returned with the phone in hand and he processed them, trying to keep his mind focussed on something other than the pain; "Princeton plainsborough…page Dr Cuddy…abdominal pain… need an O.R…"

"How's the pain now?" Wilson asked when he'd hung up, concerned with how pale House looked now that he was on his back; his breathing seemed to have improved though and he didn't look as though he was in the same amount of pain as before...

"Dull…better" House conceded as he rubbed his stomach gently, "How long 'till the goon squad get here?"

"I assume you're talking about the ambulance...about 10 minutes." Wilson said as he knelt by House's head and stuck a pillow behind it, being careful not to look too pityingly at him laying pathetically on the floor. The last thing House wanted right now was worthless pity; he'd probably rather have Wilson laughing at him stuck where he was...not that Wilson dared do that yet, 'maybe later, in the hospital...if we made it that far' he thought sombrely.

Wilson knelt down and proceeded to unbuckle House's belt; the less pressure on his abdomen the better. House obviously knew that already; which was why his belt was practically hanging off of him today and he had also worn his pre-infarction jeans which were a little too big around the waist – Wilson had even commented on them today. 'You could have told me you were sick – I wouldn't have teased you about being able to see your tighty whitey's all day' he thought guiltily as he recalled the annoyed look House had given him when he'd mentioned it earlier; he'd even gone as far as to say Chase had a better dress sense than him today - ouch!

Wilson pulled House's t shirt and jeans away from each other to examine the area; he was wary of pressing his hands over the area in case it brought on another bout of unbearable pain, "does that hurt?"he asked cautiously.

"Not yet." House replied weakly as Wilson continued, "it aches a bit though…", 'no point in worrying him too much' he thought as he lay helplessly on his cold, tiled floor.

"You're hot." Wilson stated as he pressed a little harder, feeling the heat radiating off of House's body like an open fire; he hadn't mentioned a fever earlier, 'typical Housian behaviour, hide your illness 'till you collapse in complete agony on your bathroom floor'.

"Thanks" came the muffled reply as House brought his arm up over his face; this caused Wilson to stop pressing in alarm, thinking that he'd hurt him, 'shit'.

"House?"

"Leg." came the muffled moan through his arm, "carry on"

Wilson grimaced as he realised that he had been leaning on House's bad leg; he jumped up, apologised, then used it as an excuse to go find House's stethoscope and unlock the door ready for the paramedics, who should be arriving any second now.

"How are you doing?" He asked on his return to the bathroom, seeing that House hadn't moved; he could see that his respirations were shallow and rapid again though, which could only mean one thing…pain.

He pulled House's arm down from covering his face, clearly this wasn't doing anything to help relax his stomach; he was alarmed that House was once again in intense pain – 'it has to be near his intestine' Wilson thought as he knelt, once again, over House's shaking form.

"Right, lower quadrant." House gasped; Wilson took this as an indication of where the pain was mostly located so he pressed the stethoscope over that area, causing House to groan louder and squeeze his eyes closed, "yeah, there."

"Sorry, hang in there…" Wilson said quietly as he listened, "…I don't hear anything…" He continued to listen and still failed to hear anything, not a good sign – 'where the hell is the ambulance?' he thought anxiously.

"Well, you've either been working out lately or your abdominal muscles are rigid for some other reason – been working out to impress Cuddy?" Wilson chuckled, forcefully adding a little humour to the situation, trying to relax his patient; he was aware that he had definitely found the area that seemed to be causing House the most discomfort because he was breathing uneasily again. The humour tact worked though, Wilson saw House smirk slightly and was relieved as he watched the rise and fall of his chest as his breathing even out after a couple of minutes, "well it's not your liver or kidneys…could it be your bladder or spleen?" he mused out loud as he felt the area again, only this time doing it very gently.

"Doubt it." House scoffed as he reopened his eyes; Wilson smiled faintly at his refusal to let anyone diagnose him correctly, "now you're just guessing…"

"What is it then Dr House? Enlighten me."

"Appendicitis…or Diverticulitis" House grunted as he attempted to flex his thighs, hissing as the movement caused a sharp pain took his breath away, "positive Psoas sign...symptoms fit both."

"I like this; why can't all my patients peform their own examinations?" Wilson asked jokingly as he went about tapping the area around House's abdomen; hopefully percussive testing would lead them to ruling out the spleen and maybe some other, more important organs...

"It's not your spleen" he stated matter-of-factly as he heard the ambulance pull up outside.

"Told you that already." House stated tiredly, not noticing that Wilson had already left to greet the EMT's at the door.

He tried to concentrate on breathing; in and out, not too fast and not too slow…it was actually much harder than it sounded, especially when he could feel another wave of pain coming on... 'Don't pass out, do not pass out!' he thought as he felt himself grow dizzy from the pain; 'where the fuck is Wilson? Oh God, If I don't move soon I'm gonna throw up and choke on my own vomit, on my own bathroom floor...either that or one of my vital organs is going to explode while Wilson takes his sweet time out there... he's probably making the EMT's some coffee...'

"Wilson!" He managed to gasp weakly as he passed out...


	3. Chapter 3

Wilson returned to the bathroom with the two, young EMT's in tow, to find House semi conscious and slipping under fast. His legs had fallen to the side, probably because House was unable to keep them bent at the knees without Wilson's help; so he was now curled up in what looked like an incredibly uncomfortable, twisted position. Wilson had to try and keep him awake to monitor his condition; at the moment House looked like all he wanted to do was crawl into his bathroom floor and disappear.

"House, wake up." Wilson said, adopting his 'I'm pretending to be pissed but really I'm scared shitless' tone. House ignored him, his breathing becoming shallow and rapid as he tensed up, feeling the EMT brush past his legs; would they get on with it and move him off the bloody cold floor already! Wilson moved out of the way for the EMT's who were eager to get the sick guy into the ambulance without killing him in the process; at this rate, any change in position could put House in respiratory arrest.

"Can you lay on your back for me buddy?" One of the EMT's asked in a far too patronising tone, causing Wilson to cringe as he thought of what House's reply to that question would have been if he weren't so out of it.

The EMT decided, seeing that he wasn't dealing with a very co operative patient, to attempt to roll House onto his back. Wilson could only watch in horror as they tore House's hands away from his stomach and swiftly dragged him to the stretcher; he was crying out in pain, breathing in short, painful gasps and reddening as the stabbing in his gut escalated to the point he thought his intestines were going to burst out of his stomach.

The other EMT quickly pulled an oxygen mask over House's mouth and motioned to his partner to lift the gurney. Wilson stood in shock for a moment as he made an attempt to understand what just happened; he was sure EMT's had a duty of care not to hurt their patients…then again, maybe they had been on the end of one of House's rants on how EMT's were simply med school drop outs; in which case, House should be more careful about what he says to whom in future…ouch!

Wilson jogged down the hall, quickly making sure that everything in the apartment was in order and locking the door; the EMT's seemed to be arguing by the ambulance about their patient.

"What's up?" Wilson asked as he reached the back of the vehicle; one EMT quickly made his way to the driver's side of the ambulance and got in, leaving the other to pout unhappily and join Wilson in the back.

"We need to start the I.V…" the young EMT said nervously.

"Right…" Wilson failed to see the problem; big needle, vein in his arm, drip drip, antibiotics, done – where was the problem with that?

"He won't let me touch him."

"Oh…" Wilson said when he saw the problem as he climbed into the rear of the ambulance; House was still in intense pain, and he looked angry – actually, more than angry, he looked furious.

"What the fuck just happened in there?" He gasped crossly at Wilson; he remembered being flat out on his bathroom floor, then he'd felt someone roughly move him before he almost passed out again from the pain and he'd somehow ended up in the back of an ambulance. He was not a happy bunny.

"I'm not sure…I think they might know you." Wilson said quietly to House as the second EMT got in and slammed the doors shut.

"Explains a lot…" House said weakly through the O2 mask, trying to grin but actually grimacing as he let slip another groan. Wilson looked expectantly at the EMT who seemed to be thoroughly involved in setting up the I.V and ignoring his patient; 'you are so fired' is all Wilson could think as he snatched at the bag and started to administer it himself; he'd make it his responsibility to get this idiot fired as soon as they reached the hospital.

House let out a hiss and flinched, which ripped though his lower body like lightning, as Wilson stuck the needle into his forearm; Wilson started to panic when House's breathing didn't return to normal after a while – "What happened?" he asked, with a sense of dread crawling over him as House instinctively reached down to his stomach.

Wilson carefully batted his hands away and lifted the t shirt himself, cursing when he saw what was causing House such discomfort; it was the huge bruise on the lower, right side of his abdomen that indicated internal bleeding – "shit" he heard House mutter as he touched the area.

"House, you've got to try and relax." Wilson said urgently as he watched his friend struggle to breathe again; he felt as if he had done a good job in monitoring his breathing so far, considering he hadn't reached the turning blue stage up until now.

"I can't" House struggled to say, as his vision blurred and his ears started to ring from the stress his body was going through; he closed his eyes to try and ground himself.

"If you pass out now, you won't wake up…" Wilson decided scare tactics were in order, even though he was sure House was fully aware of what was happening to his body already. "Something has ruptured, there looks like a degree of internal bleeding – just wait 5 minutes then you'll be put under and they'll remove whatever it is that's blown" Wilson said, wishing that he had sounded less like he was talking about a car engine and more like he was describing House's body; "plus, I don't want to have to intubate you in the back of this damn ambulance." He added, sounding annoyed at the prospect.

"You wouldn't dare." House said softly, trying to regulate his breathing so that he could actually see Wilson instead of just a blur of lights; the pain was still there, nagging at him, but he felt light headed and slightly dizzy which took his mind off of it a little.

"You ok?" Wilson asked cautiously after a few minutes of just watching House breathing in and out, fogging up the O2 mask over his mouth.

"Peritonitis." House responded; not exactly the answer Wilson was expecting, a simple yes or no was obviously too much to hope for with House right now.

"You're on an antibiotic, don't worry – no sepsis." Wilson reassured him, a little hurt that House didn't trust him not to have thought of that already; he may be an Oncologist but he wasn't completely unable to diagnose other non-cancerous complications if required.

The ambulance eventually pulled up at the emergency entrance to PPTH and was greeted by Cuddy who watched her Head of Diagnostics being pulled out on a gurney, looking very worse for wear.

"What the hell happened House?" she said, throwing her arms up in annoyance – unable to keep in her frustration; when no reply came she saw just how sick he was and decided to let him off the fact that she'd been in the middle of an after hours tour with some important benefactors. She aimed her frustration at Wilson instead; "I asked you to look after him, what went wrong?"

"I-I took him home and he just…collapsed." Wilson stuttered, "He actually asked me to bring him in-even he's not stubborn enough to stay at home in _that _much pain."

They were brought out of their little update by the patient himself as he groaned and tried to curl up on the gurney. Cuddy immediately snapped at the two nurses who had been waiting with her to "get moving to OR 2, stat!" They didn't need telling twice as they each took a side of the bed, with Cuddy and Wilson taking the other side racing their patient to surgery as fast as possible.

"What's he got?" Cuddy asked as they rounded the corner towards the operating rooms, almost taking out an elderly couple in the process.

"He thinks its Appendicitis or Diverticulitis-"

"What do you mean '_he_ thinks'?" Cuddy asked, not believing what she just heard, "He's the patient, he's in too much pain to think! What do _you _think it is?"

"I, uh…its not his spleen..." Wilson offered patheticly; desperatly trying to think of what it could be other than what House had told him it was earlier.

"Do you expect a surgeon just to cut him open and play 'where's wally' with his organs?" Cuddy asked angrily; this was exactly something she'd expect from House, not Wilson, "where are they supposed to start?"

"Well, lets see shall we, maybe they could start by following the massive amount of internal bleeding caused by whatever organ it is that has ruptured!" Wilson snapped angrily; now Cuddy was in no doubt that Wilson was definatly turning into House – outbursts and all!

"Something's ruptured?" Cuddy repeated questioningly as she regained her initial adrenaline rush and pushed the gurney faster towards the operating room.

"Yeah, he's on antibiotics to stop it going septic." Wilson said, tugging at the I.V line in House's forearm to indicate what he meant, as if Cuddy had forgotten how antibiotics could be administered in a patient.

House was aware that he was being rushed somewhere by Cuddy, Wilson and two unimportant looking nurses; he wanted to offer his diagnosis of appendicitis but found the words didn't make it far past the O2 mask, so he opted to lay perfectly still and relax…so far it wasn't working well. 'Did Wilson say that somehing had ruptured? That's not good, if I get Peritonitis then he'll be sorry he let those two crappy EMT's drag me off the floor' House thought lazily, 'Did I tell him about that? Probably...why am I so tired?'

He felt his clothes being hastily cut away, 'Cuddy better not slip with those scissors' he thought warily as he watched her cut through his jeans, gasping as she saw the internal bleed area under the harsh hospital lights. She must have noticed him looking at her through half-lidded eyes because she handed the scissors over to Wilson to cut away his boxers and place the gown over him, 'trust her to get embarassed at a time like this.' House chuckled silently to himself; 'jeez, I'm really out of it now, so damn tired – what the fuck is going on? Maybe I'll feel better when I wake up…'

"House? House!" Wilson called out, slapping his friend on the cheek, "He's out cold – we've gotta get him in there right now!"

Cuddy nodded in agreement and ushered the surgeon over to collect the patient; she glanced at the I.V bag that had beed precariously draped beside House's right arm as she help push the gurney up to the doors. 'That's funny, I thought Wilson said they'd given him antibiotics…'

**Author's Note: BTW – that last line is pretty significant…Next chapter will be the surgery…Hello to all my regular reviewers, I love you guys! Oh yeah and Dr. Fantabulous – my big project will be fanfic related (House fanfic related to be precise!) so look out for it over the next month or so; it should be good, that's all I can say right now…Meanwhile, I'm off to write the rest of this fic – I can't leave House unconscious waiting for surgery now can I?!**


	4. Chapter 4

Wilson didn't wait for Cuddy to return before he sprinted off to watch the surgery from the viewing platform; questions were being shouted by his pesky inner voice that refused to go away, 'did we get here in time?' seemed to be the most prominent concern at that particular moment in time.

He watched, concerned, as House regained consciousness long enough to curl up as another wave of pain took over his body. The surgeons were quick to respond to administer the general anaesthesia, they gave each other a concerned look; 'House shouldn't be slipping in and out of consciousness like this' Wilson thought worriedly.

Wilson didn't have a chance to contemplate what this meant before Cuddy burst into the room, holding the I.V bag which had been passed to her by the attending surgeons. "Wilson, you said he was on antibiotics – this is morphine!" she screeched.

"What?" Wilson practically yelled back in disbelief, making Cuddy realise straight off that he hadn't given it to House intentionally.

"The surgeon nearly bit my head off because morphine shouldn't be given to patients with suspected appendicitis…" Cuddy trailed off on the last part as she watched the surgeons working below.

"Those stupid, ignorant technicians" Wilson muttered angrily, banging his fist against the wall in exasperation, "no wonder he was so out of it…he's probably got Peritonitis now too"

"Yeah..."

"He'll never let me forget this you know." Wilson said forlornly as he buried his head in his hands warily, "he warned me specifically about it and I told him it was fine – I told him I had it covered."

"The surgeons were worried because he's Tachycardic." Cuddy started, holding her hand up to cut Wilson off as he went to blame himself again, "He's fine now that he's in surgery – stop worrying! I know it wasn't you who gave him the morphine, let me know which techs did this and they're fired."

The surgeons below were having problems of their own; "who the hell put him on Morphine? As if this wasn't hard enough already, his heart rate is too rapid and his breathing is severely compromised!" the masked surgeon said in annoyance as he injected a muscle relaxant into House's I.V port; Tachycardia or not, you don't drag a surgeon in after hours unless you really need the surgery done. "Get him intubated."

The young attending made a simple intubation look like complicated brain surgery as she fumbled with the tubes and looked like she was going to choke poor, unconscious House in the process. Cuddy winced in the viewing area as she remembered that they were particularly short staffed tonight and this was the interns first shot at assisting surgery; House would be lucky if he could swallow after this surgery, let alone breathe. "Maybe I should join them…let them know what they should be looking for." Cuddy said to Wilson as she backed out of the observation room; she wouldn't mention that she was also a little worried that this particular surgeon hated House's guts and would probably gladly remove all of House's vital organs and hold a hospital raffle just so he could say he got one over the grumpy doc!

She scrubbed up and got in the OR as quick as they'd let her; she could swear that she noticed the surgeon's shoulders droop slightly as he saw her enter, signalling that 'the fun is over now that the boss is here'.

She watched as the surgeon made the first incision with his scalpel; the intern gasped faintly as she saw the amount of blood that had to be cleared from House's abdomen before they could even contemplate finding which organ had ruptured. She shakily worked the suction as the surgeon dove straight in to work; he had better places to be, his wife was already mad that he'd been called in on his night off, if he didn't get back soon he'd be on divorce number four!

"O2 sats are dropping." The surgeon said casually when the monitor started beeping urgently; it was almost as though he was telling someone about the weather forecasted for the weekend, "you - check the tube" he said nonchalantly to his assistant. Cuddy scowled as she elbowed the poor intern out of the way and re-intubated House herself; 'as soon as this is all over, I'm seriously reconsidering this hospitals position as a teaching hospital' she thought grimly as she glanced at the monitors. Heart rate still high, O2 sats looking better but not great…not that the surgeon was letting that worry him too much as he carried on regardless.

Cuddy hung a second bag of antibiotics and blood; surprised at how quickly the surgeon was pulling out House's appendix. She glanced up at Wilson in the observation room and noted that he also looked concerned with how quickly the operation seemed to be going; Appendicitis was a relatively common condition, so it was probably a simple enough op for this particular surgeon – maybe he was trying for a Guinness world record in appendix removal or something.

"Ruptured appendix. I'm closing-" he said monotonously as he practically threw the organ onto the tray beside him.

"Wait, don't you need to check for-" Cuddy started before she was rudely interrupted by the surgeon, who seemed to look down his nose at her.

"Dr Cuddy; Dr House has just had his ruptured appendix taken out and the unfortunate development of Peritonitis should clear up now that we've tackled the sepsis. Please don't tell me how to do my job." The surgeon said patronisingly.

"Dr Norosinski, please don't think for one minute that I give a damn about your job; Surgeons are relatively easy to come by, genius Diagnosticians on the other hand, aren't!" Cuddy said angrily, surprising everyone in the room with her outburst, including herself. She hastily retreated from the OR and pulled off her scrubs; "What was that going to gain you other than a pissed off surgeon? Now I think _I'm_ turning into House!" she groaned to herself as she made her way to the ICU to get House's room sorted.

Wilson watched the whole exchange on mute and briefly wondered where Cuddy was going in such a hurry; he watched the surgeon close up and signal for House to be wheeled out by the interns, he looked pissed. The surgeon obviously wasn't aware that he was still being watched by Wilson when he stabbed House's ruptured appendix repeatedly with his scalpel – Psycho style! Wilson raised his eyebrows in surprise, 'surely House couldn't have pissed this guy off; not when he was unconscious the whole time!'

Satisfied that the operation was a success, even though the surgeon seemed to be having a nervous breakdown afterwards, Wilson made his way down to the ER to find those idiot EMT's; once Cuddy had names, she could kick them out on their butts and ensure they didn't cause any more damage to patients.

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House could hear voices around him when he drifted back into the land of the living, which obviously meant he hadn't pegged it yet, thankfully; he was disconcerted to find that he couldn't open his eyes yet, much to his impatient annoyance. He felt as though he was submerged in the deepest depths of the ocean and couldn't breathe, talk or swallow; he came to the swift conclusion that he must have been intubated with a rather large steak knife when he was in surgery.

He vaguely remembered regaining consciousness before surgery, only to be pushed roughly back down by someone when he tried to curl over his stomach; he was then heavily anaesthetised and somehow lost consciousness again. 'Surely I shouldn't feel like I'm high right now…' he thought lazily; 'not that I'm complaining!'

He was concerned, however, as he slowly drifted back off to sleep, when he felt a sharp pang in his abdomen; 'don't tell me they left the damn thing in there after all!' he groaned inwardly to himself as his mind slipped away…

**Author's Note: Next chapter is the last chapter (told you it was gonna be a short one!) So thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed so far. Dr. Fantabulous – Sorry, 'Where's Wally' is a British thing – it's called 'Where's Waldo' in the U.S (for some unknown reason!), but then you already knew that! Damn, I was doing so well with my Americanisms too…lol! Enjoy the next chapter…**


	5. Chapter 5

Wilson loomed behind the two young EMT's who stood, in Cuddy's office, looking humble in front of a fuming Cuddy; it had been 15 minutes of shouting before either of them admitted that they'd neglected to care for their patient earlier. If they thought that would be the end of it, then they were seriously mistaken; Cuddy was going to make them suffer for their unprofessional attitudes if it was the last thing she did.

"Please repeat that, I'm hoping I misheard you the first time." Cuddy sternly said to the younger EMT, who was wisely looking anxious.

"I-uh, we thought he might have been putting it on-"

"Because he looked like might have been trying to score drugs." The second one pitched in to add his part of the story.

"So you're saying because he was semi-conscious and writhing in pain on his bathroom floor – you assumed he was a drug seeker?" Wilson asked angrily as he paced behind them.

"So what did you do next? It says in your report you transferred the patient to the ambulance-"

"More like dragged him off the floor by the scruff of his neck!" Wilson interjected angrily; Cuddy was pleased to see some visual remorse from the two EMT's as they recalled the events which had gotten them stuck in this lecture.

"We put him in the ambulance; then the patient seemed to get aggressive-"

"He wouldn't let us give him the I.V"

"Which I.V?" Cuddy asked, trying not to make it sound important; "Dr Wilson asked you to put the patient on antibiotics before you entered the patient's home."

"We put him on a morphine drip." The younger EMT stated, shrugging his shoulders.

Bingo.

"Why morphine? He had appendicitis; he needed antibiotics."

"We had no reason to believe it was appendicitis-"

"Other than the doctor who told you that it could have been." Wilson interrupted again.

"What's the real reason you gave him morphine?" Cuddy asked; seeing the two EMT's looking guiltily at each other she added "you're both fired whatever your reason is." Both EMT's looked shocked and shifted uncomfortably before they decided to come clean.

"We just wanted to put him to sleep-"

"He was being aggressive."

"Leave your uniforms at reception on your way out – and don't expect a reference." Cuddy said as she motioned to the door; if she didn't get rid of these two in the next thirty seconds, Wilson was going to horrifically murder them by strangulation with the I.V line he was clutching in his hands.

Cuddy sighed as the two stormed out of her office and left her with Wilson, who looked like he desperately wanted to hit someone. She was about to suggest going for a quick coffee before House woke from surgery when she was cut off by the phone; Wilson listened intently to her side of the conversation.

"This is Dr Cuddy…when?" _pause_ "How much?" _pause_ "Post op?" _very long pause_ "We'll be right up." The phone cut off and Cuddy dropped it and seemed to go over the conversation in her head before she filled Wilson in; "House is awake. He's still in a lot of pain-"

"Post op pain?" Wilson asked, remembering too late that it was what Cuddy had also asked whilst on the phone, which meant that it obviously wasn't.

"More than that…how could it not have been appendicitis?" She mused out loud, knowing that Wilson was probably thing the same thing, "You'd better get up there."

"You're not coming?" Wilson asked curiously as he made to leave; Cuddy shook her head as she picked the phone back up.

"I thought I'd call in his team – we need a second opinion…"

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"You okay?" Wilson asked as he approached House's bed in the ICU; stupid question really, he could see how well House was doing before he even opened his mouth to ask.

House was trying in vain to lay flat on his back, keeping his hands away from the stitches that he now sported on his abdomen by gripping the rails on the bed so hard that his knuckles had lost all colour and feeling. He looked up at Wilson with fevered eyes, "I was wrong – it wasn't my appendix" he rasped, causing Wilson to cringe as he remembered the bodged up intubation he had gone through on the table, 'that's gotta hurt.'

"House, they took out your appendix – it was ruptured." Wilson said defensively as he snatched House's chart from the bed; obviously House had been examining it thoroughly before Wilson arrived.

"Still in pain here." House groaned as he made the mistake of rubbing his hand over his stitches, "and why is my damn heart rate so high?"

"Morphine..."

House looked up inquisitively, needing an explanation when he saw the remorseful look Wilson had plastered on his face and the fact that there was no morphine in the room, "enlighten me..."

"The EMT's decided you needed to be put out in the ambulance."

"Figures." House growled as he grabbed hold of the bed rail again, sweat breaking out on his brow, "don't suppose I can get something a little stronger for the pain?"

"You shouldn't be in this much pain." Wilson replied frowning whilst looking at House's chart.

"That doesn't make it true though, watch, I _shouldn't_ have a bum leg…" He paused expectantly, "see, nothing!"

"I mean, you shouldn't be able to feel where they've cut you open, they've numbed the area. Where exactly does it hurt?"

"Same place it did before." House grunted as he tried to twist his body to accommodate the unpleasant shooting pain that was still present in his abdomen; it was the same pain as before, he was sure of it. The antibiotics and saline drip weren't even taking the edge off; it still felt like someone was driving a knife into his abdomen.

"You're gonna rip out your stitches!" Wilson yelled as House writhed about in the bed.

"Well while they're out – why don't you dig around and see what the real problem is in there." House gasped as he gave up trying to move and settled for keeping still again; which was hard when he felt like there was a farmer with a pitch fork digging around near his intestines, "where's my appendix?"

"Probably been disposed of…" Wilson said whilst making a point of turning away from House to grimace silently, remembering what state House's appendix had been in after Norosinski had stabbed it in his psychotic rage.

"What?" House asked noticing Wilson's reaction; he was in pain, he wasn't blind, "who was my surgeon?"

"Norosinski."

This time it was House's turn to wince; Norosinski was a crappy surgeon who only worked the bare minimum hours as he was due to retire on a hefty pension in the next couple of months, he wouldn't be missed at the hospital and House had taken the time to let him know that just the week before, 'shit.'

"I take it from that reaction that he had a perfectly good reason for hating your guts…literally." Wilson said dryly, smirking at his own witticism.

"Maybe…what did he do, leave a scalpel or two in there?" House grunted as he grabbed the rails again, "are you gonna get me back in surgery or stand there looking at my chart all day?"

"We can't just open you up and hope to see the problem-"

"Sure you can-"

"You're Tachycardic!" Wilson yelled, frustrated that House seemed to be his natural impatient self, "and we don't know what we're looking for…"

House grimaced and twisted awkwardly in the bed, facing away from Wilson; this just made Wilson stand stubbornly behind him, refusing to bite and continue arguing with him.

Cuddy chose this moment to stroll in confidently with her 'masked concerned' look plastered on her face; House could only guess it was her as he heard the distinctive click of her heels stop abruptly behind him.

"Post op pain?" She asked hopefully as she crossed to where House was facing; taking in the pale, sweating man with the pained look he was unable to disguise she quickly concluded that this defiantly wasn't post op pain. "Do you actually feel _any _better?"

"No…but don't beat yourself up over it – I never liked my appendix anyway."

"Has the lab looked at the extent of damage to it?" Cuddy asked Wilson, who had not yet moved from his position behind House.

"It wouldn't tell you much…Norosinski destroyed what was left of it." Wilson said, seeing House's shoulders move slightly as he chuckled lightly to himself; then groan as the movement caused more pain than it was really worth.

"Does anyone in this hospital actually do their jobs properly anymore?" Cuddy asked exasperatedly; she was glad she refused to hold a retirement party for Norosinski now (even if it was under House's persistent recommendation), incompetent ass.

"Did you call in his team?" Wilson asked as he hung the chart back on the end of House's bed; no point in going over the figures when there was nothing there that explained why House was still in so much pain.

"I wanted to see if _he_ had any good ideas as to what it could be first..." Cuddy said, motioning to House who was back to the favoured position of curled up on his side, arm draped tightly around his mid section and head buried into his pillow. The last thing he really wanted now was for Cuddy to ask him what he though was wrong; it was hard enough to keep up the snark in this much pain, let alone diagnose himself…again.

"Uh…abdominal abscess…" House gasped as he tried to remember the complications of appendicitis.

"It's possible – what else?" Cuddy pressed as she pretended to be interested in something outside the window in an attempt not to watch House struggle to conceal the pain.

"Maybe…could be an ulcer…or an abdominal hernia." House said, feeling like he was back at school and being pressed for his opinion by an annoying teacher, "or maybe I'm pregnant...maybe its sympathetic pregnancy pains – I treated a pregnant woman in the clinic last week" he was losing his patience with the game already, and from the sighs and eye rolls, so were Cuddy and Wilson. "Do you want me to list everything that has abdominal pain as a symptom because believe me, it's a long list!" he groaned miserably.

"I'll phone his team okay?" Cuddy said warily, clearly she wasn't helping his pain management by pressing him for a diagnosis; maybe his team could pull off a diagnosis without getting their boss in an even worse condition. She took one last look at House who rolled his eyes at her, feigning annoyance at her persistent questioning; in reality he would welcome the chance to get a second opinion, Wilson didn't seem to be helping much – that could be interpreted as both a good thing and a bad thing…'he doesn't think its cancer does he?' Cuddy thought as she retreated from the room.

Wilson walked over to the blinds and drew them before pulling out a couple of latex gloves; House flinched as he heard the latex snap and watched Wilson put them on.

"Roll over…" Wilson instructed casually, "or would you rather have a nurse do this particular examination?"

House screwed up his nose and went to turn over; he didn't make it half way before he cursed and then grinned foolishly at Wilson, "oops, you're going to have to leave your fantasy 'till later Jimmy…" he drawled, making an effort to look sheepish.

"Why?" Wilson asked as he made his way quickly to the monitors which showed House's BP dropping steadily, "you did that on purpose!" he accused as he pulled back House's arm from his waist to reveal blood pulsing from the, now open, surgical incision.

"You're accusing me of ripping out my stitches to prevent you from performing a rectal examination…even I'm not that stupid…" House said weakly, the stinging pain from the wound providing a nice little distraction from the sharp pains coming from within his abdomen; but at the same time making him very, very sleepy.

Wilson sighed angrily as he pressed the nurse's call button; he watched House struggle to keep his eyes open and tried to refrain from the extreme urge he had to clout him round the head for being an idiot.

**Author's Note: OMG, I know I said I was going to end it in this chapter…but now my pants are on fire and I'm going to put in a couple more chapters. I hope that's okay with everyone?**


	6. Chapter 6

House groaned as he regained consciousness, the pain was still there indicating that Wilson had simply stitched him up while he was out rather than give him any stronger pain meds; 'he probably still believes that I ripped out the damn stitches on purpose' House thought as he opened his eyes to find himself in the same hospital room but this time with a few more visitors.

Foreman, Cameron and a very tired looking Chase were mid way through arguing with Wilson about painkillers when they heard House groan and watched him open his bleary eyes and stare at them.

"I can actually see you, you know…" House grumbled as they all continued to simply stare at him dumbly, "and don't you even think of coming near me with those on" he signalled to Wilson who was wearing the latex gloves.

Wilson smirked unsettlingly and House quickly deduced that he'd just missed out on being conscious for the humiliating exam, 'Nooo!'

"You didn't…" He asked whilst holding up his hand with his index finger pointing at Wilson, not wanting to even contemplate the response he might get.

"You don't wanna know." Wilson quickly replied, clearly just as grossed out by this as he was; House briefly wondered if Wilson was cruel enough to have done it in front of his ducklings…'please God no!' House thought as his eyes widened in shock.

"They've _just arrived_ to help you out with the differential." Wilson confirmed, catching the petrified look House gave him, translating it into English and cementing his already steadfast reputation as the 'House whisperer'.

"What's on the list so far?" House asked as he shifted on the bed, wincing as the gremlin with the chainsaw in his gut punished him for the movement.

"Err; we've only just got here…" Chase said tiredly, "what are the symptoms?"

"Severe abdominal pain, fever…that's all we've got to go on I'm afraid." Wilson said as he seated himself in the guest chair waiting for the differential to begin.

"Nausea." House said quietly.

"You told me you weren't nauseous…" Wilson said, recalling the conversation they'd had in his car a few hours ago.

"I lied…wanted you to stop worrying."

"Yeah, that worked out really well didn't it. Oh, apart from the collapsing in agony part!"

"Please don't tell me you dragged us out of bed for us to listen to you two bitching at each other all night?" Foreman asked angrily as he threw his hands in the air in exasperation; Wilson leaned back in the chair, signalling his retreat from the conversation. "Now, my first thought would be acute pancreatitis-" Foreman started.

"No vomiting." House interjected.

"Maybe it's your spleen."

"Nope – wrong area for pain" House said whilst cautiously rubbing his hand over his lower abdomen.

"Could be Liver disease…or End Stage Liver failure?"

"Next!" House groaned, not wanting it to be any of Foreman's horrific suggestions; hopefully Cameron would have some nice, friendly diseases for him…

"Erm, Allergies?" Cameron offered, then sighed as House groaned angrily, "okay not allergies…it could be Addison's."

"No vomiting – weren't you listening!" House said again, "what else?"

"…Lupus?" she asked hopefully.

"Oh, now you're just guessing - next!"

All eyes in the room fell on Chase who had leant himself against the wall and looked as though he was comfortable enough to sleep standing up, "Me? Oh right, err…"

"Take your time – there's a guy about to die here!" House moaned as another sharp pain forced him to hastily re-evaluate his position on the bed.

"You're not going to die in the next 30 seconds." Chase whined as House glared at him, "what about…Trichomoniasis?"

"Nope, I'm a firm believer of safe sex – pick another…" House seemed to think this through before he shot Chase down; it made Chase feel good because at least he had made House think about his diagnosis before rejecting it, which was one up on Cameron and Foreman so far, now he had to think of another two…

"Okay…Acute Urinary retention?"

"He's a Nephrologist; he's going to have thought of that already." Cameron argued as she expectantly looked to House for confirmation.

"The symptoms fit – and he's the patient!" Chase argued back before also looking to House for a yay or nay.

"Chase is right…but so is Cameron – it's not a Kidney problem…" House said as he felt the area around the stitches, it still felt slightly stiff, 'abdominal distension – should that still be there?' he thought as he raised his eyebrows, wincing as he caught a stitch with his thumb. This didn't go unnoticed by the other occupants of the room who had been tentatively watching him; he snapped out of his thoughts when he heard them hiss in sympathy for him and he decided to press Chase further, "one more guess…see if you can win that special bonus prize."

"Gallstones…"

"Hmm…" House thought about this in between flinching in pain as the chainsaw wielding gremlin seemed to want to punish him for _not_ moving now; 'what's a guy gotta do to make this little shit happy?' House thought unhappily as he frowned. "Not the right area, pain's in the lower right side of the patient's abdomen – Gallstones are generally accompanied by upper abdominal pain…"

"I assume you've ruled out cancer." Foreman said looking expectantly at Wilson, missing the apprehensive look House gave him.

"We're doing tests on his blood at the moment." Wilson said, not wanting to commit to an answer either way; he desperately wanted House's three doctors to come up with something that wasn't cancer, it didn't seem to be happening. Cameron, Chase and Foreman looked at each other and then at Wilson, uneasiness painted on their faces.

"Hello - lets pretend for a moment that it _isn't_ cancer and is…something _else_...something easily curable" House whined as he motioned for Cameron to pass his chart from the end of his bed; he turned it over and used the back as a mini white board.

"What about Amebiasis?" Chase asked.

"Thanks but I'm a pretty clean living kinda guy, what with being a doctor and all..." House replied feeling slightly insulted by Chase's suggestion; now he knew how _his_ patients felt when he suggested they had humiliating diseases…

The ducklings were stumped; they all seemed to be mulling over the three symptoms which were too common and not nearly specific enough to pin a clear diagnosis on.

"How about an Aortic aneurysm?" House suggested himself after making a show of turning over onto his right side to try and get more comfortable, "why not…" he sighed as he wrote it down on the board, ignoring the worried looks everyone was shooting his way.

"You're thinking another Infarction?" Wilson asked being the only one in the room who dared to ask out loud, "The likelihood of the same patient having two separate-"

"Well I'm guessing it's higher than the likelihood of the patient having one in the first place or else you would have stopped talking by now." House said angrily as he moved onto the next bullet point on his list, "what else did we have…" he muttered.

"That was it…" Cameron said sadly as she turned to Chase and Foreman who shrugged in agreement that they had no new ideas, "nothing else fits..."

"Well you're all useless." House growled, "Go home, I'll see you tomorrow."

The three young doctors looked at each other then to Wilson; House seemed to want to ignore them now that he had gotten nothing useful out of them. Wilson nodded, indicating for them to leave him and House to it; Chase and Foreman left immediately, they'd had enough of being shouted at for one night. Cameron stayed to briefly let Wilson know that he could call her if there was any change in House's condition, which made House scowl behind her back.

"You really think it could be a clot?" Wilson asked, knowing that House wouldn't have suggested it if it wasn't already playing on his mind and seeing the worry in House's eyes pretty much confirmed that it was defiantly on his mind.

"It fits." House said softly whilst looking at the words on the back of his chart.

"So does my tie but I'm not blaming it for the pain in your gut!" Wilson said desperately trying to keep House away from the depressed state he seemed to be getting himself into.

House smirked despite himself and followed it with a scowl as he lowered the head of the bed, "go and sort me out an abdominal ultrasound – if there is something in there, I wanna know what it is…"

Wilson nodded, acknowledging that this was the reaction he wanted from House, sheer determination to solve the puzzle. He left to gather the necessary equipment knowing that House would want him to carry out the procedure personally just in case they found something that they didn't particularly want to find.

House lay back on his bed and gingerly lifted his right leg to join his left which was bent at the knee; he groaned as even this position didn't alleviate the pain any more.

"House?" Cuddy said, wincing as she made him jump, "sorry, I did knock."

He grunted in response and pulled himself up by raising the head of the bed; Cuddy made to stop him but he shook his head and leant awkwardly over his left leg, forcing Cuddy to cross to the other side of his bed to look him in the eye.

"You should be at home." He said with a sigh as he met her sympathetic gaze.

"Thought I'd see how you're doing before I left for the night."

"I'm great, never felt better – thinking about buying some change of address cards and maybe getting my mail redirected here." House said unenthusiastically as he glanced up from his uncomfortable position to watch Cuddy's reaction at his under par attempt at sarcasm.

Cuddy tilted her head at him, sensing that he'd rather she left now that he was beginning to feel vulnerable in front of her; he looked thoroughly sick and tired of his room and he'd only been in it 3 hours.

"You still have no idea what it is?" She asked softly, not wanting to push him for an answer when he looked so fragile.

"Wilson's gone to get an ultrasound – stick around if you wanna know if it's a boy or a girl…" He replied weakly, his cheeks flushing as he struggled to keep his breathing in control, 'damn I thought I had that under control...' he thought, panicking slightly.

"How's your fever?"

"101.4" He gasped back, grabbing the I.V line which was getting tangled up with all his movement in the bed and making a point of straightening it out, hoping Cuddy would get bored and leave soon so he could scream in peace.

"Better than it was earlier, your heart rate is getting there too…" Cuddy said, running out of questions to ask; she didn't want to leave him like this, he was depressed enough already, she could hear it in his tone of voice.

"Seriously though, I'm sure I'll live for the next few hours...you can leave and pester me in the morning."House pressed as he pushed his face into the pillow, grunting as he tried to keep from crying out in pain. "Please can you leave..." Cuddy heard the muffled voice ask weakly and pleadingly.

She was torn between wanting to leave him, uncomfortable with watching him unsuccessfully attempt to suppress the pain; or stay with him in support and tell him to get over the embarrassment of breaking down in front of a caring friend – they'd both get through it...

She opted to leave, this was House after all, he wanted her to leave; she put her hand out to stroke the back of his head then withdrew it quickly, thinking that House would just get uncomfortable with the gesture. "Let me know when you figure out what it is...I'll be back first thing in the morning." she said supportively, knowing full well that she wouldn't leave the hospital tonight; she planned on joining the ducklings in the conference room where they were continuing with House's differential...


	7. Chapter 7

House stayed in his uncomfortable position after Cuddy left, too stubborn to even ask for help even though he felt like he was going to pass out from the pain; 'Wilson will be back soon' he thought as he futilely tried to take in a few deep breaths.

Those damn doctors were screaming in his ear again, he was too tired to make an effort to ignore them…You know its cancer – you're gonna die; slowly and painfully…karma's a bitch!' House winced as he imagined himself being told 'it took too long to diagnose…it's spread…there's nothing we can do' by Wilson; it would be almost as humiliating as having him stick his finger up his – "Fuck" he groaned as he moved awkwardly onto his back once again.

Wilson returned within minutes with the ultrasound equipment; House had been steadily deteriorating within that time, but he still insisted on putting up a front to make Wilson believe that he was ok. The last thing he wanted was for Wilson to insist that all this was his fault and get all whiney on him; he picked up the chart that Wilson had left nearby and began scrawling on it.

"What if the Peritonitis wasn't from the ruptured appendix…?" House started as he waited for Wilson to set up the ultrasound equipment; Wilson looked up inquisitively, knowing that this was simply House thinking out loud and not expecting an answer yet. "What if the ruptured appendix was _caused_ by the Peritonitis…the pressure built up, forced the appendix to become inflamed and sent off false smoke signals making us believe that the appendix was the cause of the pain…"

"You're thinking over productive Lymph nodes?" Wilson asked as he went over it in his mind, "Makes sense."

"Doesn't just make sense, it explains everything…serous fluid accumulating within the peritoneal cavity causing spontaneous bacterial peritonitis – which made everyone think it was a ruptured appendix." House said triumphantly before groaning and clutching his stomach again, "It's Ascites."

"It doesn't explain why your lymph nodes were enlarged in the first place…" Wilson said, raining on House's parade and getting an angry look from him for doing so.

"Fine…" House said moodily as he frowned in concentration, "How about a nice case of Gastroenteritis…which then blows up the patient's lymph nodes like balloons and makes them work harder than Cameron in a room full of cancer kids...Mesenteric adenitis." House said eagerly whilst holding his stomach as though it would burst, "then all that pressure forces the appendix to rupture and the patient doesn't recover, even after having his appendix removed."

"Okay…that does make some sense…but can you stop referring to yourself in the third person – it's really confusing." Wilson said as he passed House the gel for the scan; he didn't particularly want to rub gel over House after what he had done to him earlier…things could get weird!

Luckily House had other ideas about the scan and took over completely by performing the test himself; Wilson sighed and resigned himself to simply looking at the screen, hoping the answer would jump right out at them. 'Please don't be cancer…' both men were thinking, although neither of them would say it out loud.

"How much blood was drained when they took out my appendix?" House asked suspiciously as he ran the receiver over his abdomen with a shaking hand; he was unsuccessfully suppressing moans as he tried to look over Wilson's shoulder at the screen.

"A lot…almost 3 pints" Wilson said, taking the receiver from House's hand and gently pushing him down; performing the test himself was clearly putting strain on his abdominal muscles and was causing his breathing to become laboured again. "Respiratory distress can develop with tense ascites!" he said defensively as he held the receiver out of House's reach; he felt like he was stealing a bone from a hungry dog.

"Fine…see any strange masses…scalpels…car keys…tumours?" House asked weakly as he faced the ceiling; he was beginning to feel light headed again and he wasn't sure if it was because he was tired or because he was, in fact, finding it difficult to breathe as Wilson predicted. 'Oh God, how can I feel dizzy when I'm lying down…c'mon, don't pass out again…breathe you idiot!'

"You okay?" Wilson asked cautiously when he found his friend's silence disconcerting enough to worry him. He turned from the screen to look at House, who was still facing the ceiling and struggling to get enough air; he saw him swallow before he mumbled something about falling asleep and the O2 sats monitor starting beeping wildly…

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"Why don't we just go home; House isn't going to die – he's far too stubborn to do it when none of us are there for him to taunt!" Chase whined as he poured himself an extra strong mug of coffee; being up at 1AM wasn't doing anything for his patience for their patient!

"What would you think if House gave that reasoning every time he wanted to leave for the night when we've got a _patient_ we can't figure out?" Cameron asked angrily as she stormed over to the whiteboard, "don't you think he'd work through the night to figure out what's wrong if it was you in that hospital bed?"

"No, I'm pretty sure he'd just let me die." Chase laughed as he balanced himself on the chair with his legs up on the glass table; Cameron gave him a death glare, he wasn't sure if he was supposed to be scared or amused at how much she looked like she wanted to throttle him right now.

"Knowing him, he's probably cured himself and this is some kind of test to see if we can come up with the right diagnosis too…" Foreman said warily before he put his hands up in defence from Cameron, "I'm just saying – it wouldn't surprise me!"

"It's real." Cuddy said from the doorway, startling the three young doctors, "he's in agony – even he can't hide that much pain…what are your first thoughts?" she asked sadly, noting the clean whiteboard as she joined them for the differential.

"He shot down all of our ideas-"

"We need to get an ultrasound of his abdomen to see what's going on in there." Cameron said, interrupting Chase's whining.

"Wilson's on it as we speak." Cuddy said quickly, seeing the frowns the ducklings gave to each other; "he refused to let anyone else do it-"

"Does he think its cancer?" Cameron asked, concern dripping from every word.

"I've told Wilson to page me when the scan is complete." Cuddy said, completely ignoring Cameron's question because she wasn't sure if she wanted to believe that her chief diagnostician could have cancer…

"It could be his liver…" Foreman said as he went over to the board to write it down, "He didn't exactly put up any argument as to why it couldn't be his liver."

"He knows that it's a possibility." Cuddy admitted, "He also knows that it will come back in the blood tests tomorrow..."

"So we've narrowed it down to cancer or his liver…well no wonder he wasn't too pleased with our consult earlier." Chase said emphatically, "He's on antibiotics…we should wait and see if it clears up on his own-"

"What – and just leave him in unbearable pain until then?" Cameron asked furiously.

"He's always in pain, I'm sure he can handle a stomach ache to go with the pain in his leg – at least 'till morning." Chase said unsympathetically as he scooted off the chair and put his jacket on. "Knowing House, he's probably got a bad case of Gastro-" he stopped halfway through putting his coat on which caused the other three doctors to give him a questioning look.

"Gastroenteritis!" Chase exclaimed, which just added to the confusion on the others' faces.

"What, you're thinking he really does have a stomach bug?" Cuddy asked disbelievingly; 'maybe Chase should go home – he's obviously more tired than I thought…'

Chase grabbed the board marker off Foreman and almost sent him flying with an over enthusiastic shove which was meant to guide him away from the whiteboard. He started to write down what he thought were the main points; 'Gastroenteritis…Enflamed Lymph Nodes – Mesenteric Adenitis…Spontaneous Peritonitis…'

"The surgeon was under the impression that the Peritonitis was due to the appendix rupture-" Chase explained seeing that the others were slightly apprehensive about trusting his unusual Housian-like behaviour, "It was actually a development of the Ascites-"

"So…if we treat the Mesenteric adenitis, then he'll make a full recovery-" Cuddy stated slowly, starting to understand what Chase was trying to say.

"He'll probably need surgery to reduce the ascites – preferable before he goes into respiratory arrest." Chase said as Cuddy stood and made her way over to the phone.

"He's okay for the minute, he's with Wilson…"

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Wilson wasted no time in dropping the receiver on House's stomach, causing him to flinch feebly; he grabbed a nearby O2 mask and silently cursed himself for not noticing House's rapid decline; maybe if House had actually said something in the first place, especially a few days ago, neither of them would be in this position...'yeah, just blame House – that makes everything alright!' Wilson thought gingerly as he gently slapped House's cheek, bringing him back from lala land.

"House, wake up – you were right…" Wilson said, hoping that this would make House fight the cloak of unconsciousness that threatened to envelope him, "there's a small volume of ascites."

"Cool…" House said unexcitedly through the O2 mask; his eyes drooping slightly as he desperately tried to stay awake, 'guess I was right about the gastroenteritis' he thought indolently.

"House, stay with me – I've forgotten what you said it was..." Wilson lied, hoping that maybe this would keep House awake now that slapping him round the face didn't seem to be doing much.

"You idiot…it was gastro-"

"Gastroenteritis, right…" Wilson said relieved that House wouldn't let him get away with forgetting that easily; even if he did look worse now than he had before they'd started the procedure. "You want me to continue?" he asked when House managed to open his eyes fully.

House nodded tiredly, he rolled his eyes as Wilson picked up the receiver which had spread the gooey gel all over House's bed and Wilson couldn't help but chuckle dryly.

"You know, you should have let me do this before you had to jump straight in with your differential earlier…" Wilson muttered as he felt House tense up under the receiver.

"I wanted to see if I could guess what it was first…" House said softly as his body relaxed slightly, the O2 mask actually making all the difference in helping him breathe…funny that!

"You make it sound like some sort of game. If you win, you get to solve another puzzle – have you even thought of what happens if you lose?" Wilson asked irately as he froze when a dark spot showed up on the screen, 'damn, he was right…again'

"Pessimist." House muttered as he raised his head to see why Wilson had paused; "looks like ascites…guess I don't lose…" He said weakly as he cocked his head to see Chase jogging up to his room. "What do you want?" He asked, though the question was barely audible through the mask; either that or Chase had frozen to the spot in the doorway and was unable to reply.

Chase hovered in the doorway feeling like he'd stumbled onto something personal; he stood gawping at his boss laying, partially covered by a sheet, with an O2 mask being held over his mouth and his stomach covered in gel while Wilson sat on the edge of the bed holding the receiver on his abdomen. "What do you want?" the irate question came again, pulling Chase out of his trance.

"I – err I mean, we know what's wrong with you…" Chase stuttered, wishing that he'd sent someone else in before he'd arrived.

House rolled his eyes when Wilson looked at him with an expectant look on his face; clearly House was desperate to know what his ducklings had come up with but was enjoying Chase's obvious discomfort at approaching his boss in such strange conditions.

"What is it?" Wilson asked covering House up as he saw the other two ducklings approaching; House appreciated the action as he could go back to his curled up on his side position much to Wilson's annoyance, "there's gel everywhere" he hissed quietly, to which he got an unconcerned shrug.

"It's Mesenteric Adenitis – developed from Gastroenteritis and causing spontaneous peritonitis." Chase said nervously as Cameron and Foreman entered and stood looking doubtful.

"Excellent diagnosis...very catchy too" House mumbled through the mask as he held a hand up to press it tighter over his mouth.

The declaration left Chase, Cameron and Foreman speechless and they looked to Wilson for confirmation that their boss had finally accepted a diagnosis from them with no arguments; Wilson smirked and pointed to House's chart which was laying, face down, on the end of the bed.

The ducklings all craned their necks to see what was scrawled on it; 'spontaneous peritonitis, lymph nodes over productive and gastroenteritis' stood out the most to the three young doctors.

"He knew?" Cameron asked accusingly as she stared at the hunched over form of her mentor, who had turned away from them and was concentrating on breathing again.

"He only figured it out after you'd left." Wilson reassured.

"Chase figured it out." Foreman said to House, "_We_ thought you were putting it on to get out of clinic."

"Cuddy has scheduled you in for surgery to reduce the fluid in your abdomen; you'll have difficulty breathing until then…" Cameron said; keen to add her input to the case.

House rolled his eyes lazily and lifted the O2 mask to address his 'would-be saviour', "Don't worry, you still get your bonus points…I suggest you save them for when I'm feeling in a particularly bad mood, they're like 'get out of jail free' cards."

"How will I tell the difference?" Chase muttered as he made an effort to look grateful for the praise, if you could call it that; he deduced that 'get out of jail free' card could be translated into 'get out of clinic free' or 'get out of having to perform the most humiliating test on a patient free' card – lucky him!

"You get a point knocked off if you wrote on my whiteboard." House added when he'd inhaled a few more gulps of air.

The grateful look fell instantly and was replaced with a scowl as Chase made a mental note to wipe the board clean before House stepped foot back in the conference room; which, knowing House, would be as soon as he got bored of being the patient…

The End…

**Thanks for reading!**


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